The Captive and the Cobra
by The Queen of Plot Twists
Summary: You see, little lion, the solution to my...well...our problem is rather simple," he spoke it so casually, with all the ease of someone well practiced in such activities, but those brilliant twilight eyes burned with a hunger so fierce, it nearly stopped Atem's heart. Bakura smiled, a curled, serpentine smile. "Let me fuck you." Part 2 of Intertwined AU AtemxBakura, Manga-divergent
1. Chapter 1

Hello all! So after months of promises and writers block i banged out the first chapter of the Captive and the Cobra! Part two of the Intertwined series! i actually started this months ago, but was having trouble figuring out how to word the next scene the way i wanted it to, but today i had an ephiphany and instead of detailing all the unneeded past episodes i just decided to jump right into the action and it worked!

also i banged this out in a couple hours so please forgive grammatical errors, i'll fix them tomorrow once i've had a chance to sleep on this and know i wont change everything,

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The Captive and the Cobra

I

Atem awoke in darkness.

A thick hazy darkness. His world was blurred but not by sleep. Against his back was not the yielding softness of a bed, but a hard, heatless wall. He shook the bleariness from his eyes and tried to focus. At first he could see nothing, but slowly his eyes adjusted to the shadows.

Around him was nothing he recognized. Vague outlines of walls and shapes. Was he in a house? Or a cave? The walls were more curved than straight. Where was he?

Eyes crusty with sleep, he went to rub them. Only to find he could not move his hands.

His eyes snapped open suddenly wide awake and the room cleared. He was sitting on a floor, his back pressed unyieldingly against a hard wall, and his hands were tied crudely to a wooden beam above his head.

Panic settled in his gut and he wrenched at his wrists, but the bindings would not budge. To his relief, it was not coarse rope holding him but linen wraps. He swallowed a cry of pain and hissed loudly. It was then he noticed the linen wraps around his arms, encasing his upper thigh and lower leg, another around his torso. For the first time he noticed the tattered wretched state of his _shenti _and tunic, the lack of gold decorations. He tried to call out but a linen wrapped gag silenced his screams.

Realization struck him with the force of a tidal wave.

Then it hit him. Like two puzzle pieces snapping into place, he remembered…

Two months.

It has been _two months_ since Bakura was last seen. And _six_ since he'd invaded the palace.

He wasn't even trying anymore, not really. His thefts, if you could even call them _that_, were nothing more than clues, breadcrumbs baiting the _medjy_ and prince like mice under the laughing smirk of the cat.

The worst part was each one was a clue for _him_. Each message or heist a code he knew, _knew_, only he, Arem could crack.

It was an invitation.

A game.

A Ra-damned _beckoning_.

_Come play, Atem. Come and take back what I stole from you, oh that's right. You _can't!

_Nothing_ pissed Atem off more than playing someone else's game.

But he pursued. He persisted. Every new heist, he was there to scrutinize even the smallest detail. Every new siting, he, himself, led the pursuit and surveyed the landscape less the Thief was in close proximity. Every new bit of information, every clue, every message, ever piece left out of place, he was there to decipher and he demanded nothing less. No one, not even _Per'a'ah _dared defy him.

Mahad tried to speak to him. Mana begged. Isis scolded, and was promptly scolded in turn. His Uncle raged and was ignored, and forced from his rooms by the Doorkeepers. More than once the High Priest demanded _Per'a'ah_ order him to stop when he himself was ignored. Begged him to leave the hunt to himself and the _medjy_ but _Per'a'ah _refused. Even his father who understood him in ways no one else could or ever would expressed concern over Atem's obsession, but nothing the old king or anyone else said would deter him.

Though it had been six months since the fateful night the Thief King had stolen whatever it was he had stolen, Atem refused to speak of it. Not even his father knew what was taken from his son that was so dire as to warrant such a vehement pursuit. He knew his child. Knew he had his own determination and strong will and the fierce temper and stubborn heart of his late queen. Whatever event had taken place between his son and this mysterious King of Thieves, it was Atem's decision to make and forcing him to stop would lead to nothing beneficial.

And so when a messenger had burst into the thrown claiming to have important information concerning the elusive King's location, he did not stop his son from leading the charge. Though how he managed to obtain the information he could not say—many false rumors had spread of the Thief King's location, or places he planned to strike next—all rumors, now doubt, started by the King himself, and thus went completely ignored by Atem. This, however, was different. This was not some grapevine rumor of a possible hit, or someone claiming they saw him in a bar, or an eye witness claim hoping for some reward: it was a report of a suspicious character. A place he had seen a man with white hair frequenting, both coming and going. Always on foot, usually with supplies. Always with his face and hair covered. It sounded like the Thief King, but the man made no promises that it was. It was why Atem found it credible.

It was deep in the desert, near the notorious Valley of the Kings where the winds were vicious, the sand was fierce, the heat was monstrous and even the mountains themselves were like lions prowling for intruders. It was the perfect place for the Thief King to hide.

Atem led the pursuit to the vehement outcry of the court, but his father allowed him—on the condition Karim and Shada accompany him.

Atem agreed.

It had been his first mistake.

From there the memories blended….

He remembered the long journey: the shimmering flatlands void of vegetation and hazy dunes, the hot breeze like the heat from and open oven, the glaring heat of Ra baring down on him, warningly...he should've headed it.

He remembered the group approaching the supposed hide out only to find huge cliffs and barren flatlands. Remembered dismounting to search around the tall red rocks, the endless hills of flat red sand that was the domain of Kemet's Great Guardian.

He remembered the ambush.

Remembered the beefy, burly man who forced him from his horse and held a knife to his throat. Remembered the swarm of men like locus attacking his men and priests.

He remembered the screams, the battle cries, the shriek of metal on metal and the disgusting wet slop of metal on flesh, of skin opening and blood pooling. Remembered the beefy, burly men who grabbed him, held a knife to his throat, the nauseating stench of sweat, and blood, and rotten meat rolling off of him. Heard the crunch of his nose and jaw when he slammed his head back into his face, felt the force of it, and sting of the knife cutting skin, the hot sand scrapping his skin as he rolled away and heard the whine of his horse as she kicked and fought to defend him.

Remembered the terror when four of the men held Shada and Karim hostage with knives to their throat. The guilt when he saw the dead or unconscious _Medjy _on the floor, thought of their families, his father, Mahad and Mana, of Isis' tears. Remembered his horror when he reached for his dragon and could not hear his voice—only his furious shrieks and screams as he fought and claws against the barrier of his mind, but the more Atem reached for him and the harder he fought, the more the barrier held. It was then he remembered the burn on his shoulder when the men grabbed him, remembered the feel of the raised skin, the dark magic pouring fro it, blocking him from the physical representation of his _ba_.

Atem shuddred at the memory. Guilt and grief and shame bubbling hot in his stomach and threatened to spill out as tears, but of pure shock and rage. He growled, furious and frustrated.

Of course it had been a trap. They were slavers, not thieves. Not bandits. And yet, _he_ had led them here. _He_ had allowed himself to become obsessed, deranged in his pursuit of the man who called himself Thief King. And for what!? His pride? His shame? Because he stole a kiss from him!? Never in all his life had Atem felt so lost, so childish…

By Ra, where were the others where they hear?

He tried to think, to remember…Then his memory snapped in to place and his mind cleared.

His men and comrades held captive. The barest traces of his magic still in his system. The Slavers demanding his surrender. He remembered that final explosion, that final bust of magic though it all but drained him. It was enough of a distraction for the Medjy to act, to free the priests, for Atem to order them back to the palace, though the protested, he commanded them and no one defied Kemet's Crown Prince.

Remembered drawing his blade and slashing the throat of one man and injuring another. Remembered being struck from behind and rolling off the cliff, remembered grabbing the side, clinging for dear life those his mind and body screamed.

Then he saw it: the black sky, the flash of silver, the furious flash of Seth's fire, the crash of arrival and the fearless, furious, ferocious cry of…

"DIABOUND! HELICAL SHOCKWAVE!"

He remembered the magnificent silver demon rising like a monstrous guardian god from the mists and shadows, her terrible claws lunging for the screaming bandits, cleaving them to pieces, but leaving the _Medjy _and priests unscathed. Her fierce red eyes blazing red with righteous fury like the flames of the spitting cobra, and its living silver serpentine tail rose like the _urasus _itself spitting silver fire and venom.

Atem remembered her. Remembered every detail of her though he'd only seen her once, and knew, _knew_ who and what she was. It was the last thing he saw before his body abandoned him, before his mind went hazy and his vision darkened, and his fingers lost all their strength. He felt them slip from the rock, felt the nothingness of hair surrounding him, felt the consciousness leaving him.

But he did not feel the rush of air around him, didn't feel the terror of plummeting or the ground rising up to destroy him. What he felt, was a strong hand ensnaring his like a root ensnaring dirt, pulling him up until he felt sweet, solid ground beneath his flesh.

Remembered, using the last of his strength to open his eyes meet the face of his rescuer…

And all but passed out again when he saw the all too familiar bone white hair, shock of lavender eyes, scared face and that infuriating smirk.

"You know," Bakura grinned down at him. "There are_ far_ easier ways to get my attention."

Then the world went back.

No…

_No…_

_NO!_

A scream tore itself unbidden from his throat, He kicked, thrashed and pulled wildly at his bonds, the pain of his wounds forgotten in the burning red blaze of rage and indignant fury, blinding him to all but the man who "saved" him. The man who now held him captive. The man for whom he had put innocent men's lives in jeopardy. Atem's whole body quivered with dangerous temper then suddenly he slumped as if exhausted by his own oubusrt.

It couldn't be true…It _couldn't _be…He couldn't have…no, Atem could _not_ be in…

"Well, finally you awake." Realization froze Atem's spine. He _knew_ that voice, that husky, raspy drawl and the overly flamboyant tone practically dripping with obnoxious sarcasm.

"And just when I thought I'd have to kiss you again to wake you up."

Atem's eyes shot to the source of the voice, crimson eyes widening in horror as the figure emerged from the shadows, shattering the last fragment of hope that he'd ben wrong.

He pushed himself off the wall. Stepped out of the shadows, slithered into view Bold in his over-sized red coat, his long hair white as skyfire and just as wild blazing like hot white starlight in the shadows, his dark skin speckled with pale scars, and those infamous, infuriating, enthralling eyes like the palest of amethysts glittering with victorious triumph and wicked delights.

"Hello, Princess," Bakura grinned, all serpentine grace and curled smiles. "Did you miss me?"

Never, in all his life, had Atem wanted to _scream_!

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So...chapters for his story will be short and random. This series, as i said before is an experiment for me to help me through writers block, get back into dark shipping for my next breakout story which will be sarkshipping and blow everyone's minds! and experiment with some headcannons's I've had with a divergent millennium world arc so it's gonna be random but its gonna be random, but its gonna be good! i banged this baby out in a few ours while on vacation a new record for me! so i can't wait to see where this goes!

As always, read, review, comment, critique, ask questions an go nits!


	2. Chapter 2

The long awaited continuation of the Captive and the Cobra...though not long at long actually XD (seriously, this has got to be the fastest update I've done in years)

Anyway...as promised these chapters will be short and infrequent but I'm hoping you enjoy them. This series is a test for me to just write something randomly without overthinking it and I gotta say its been a huge help between writing Timaeus chapters and helping me be creative on my feet without being weighed down by details :)

as always review, reply comment critique, ask questions post theories and go nuts!

and Hint hint, working on this series has given me a head cannon for a libra/dark post DSOD series that I might play around with...so be on the look out for that too...

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The Captive and the Cobra

II

"_YOU_!" the furious prince screamed with his eyes and voice though the linen wrap had reduced it to a ferocious growl like a caged animal. Yanking against his bonds, lunging, clawing, Bakura had no doubt were his little princess not restrained he'd be on the ground right now feeling the full force and bite of his anger.

And oh, what _breathtaking _anger it was: rich cerise eyes that would shame the brighestes of rubies, absolutely blazing with molten fire that sparked and roared in an inferno. His wild hair absolutely burning like the bristling fur or a wild cat or an enraged lion, claws sharp and outstretched, copper skin all but glowing with the light of a thousand vengeful suns. Oh yes, temper suited this one, he though, every curve and point of his lovely face absolutely shown with it. It made him all the more mesmerizing to look at, and—in Bakura's own far more important and personal opinion—all the more desirable.

"Ha-ah! I certainly missed _that _look on your face," the Thief King laughed, sitting back on his feels, frustratingly just out of reach of the raging monarch's outstretched claws.

The scream that followed stated as a low, animalistic growl, rising in temper and tempo to irate roar of unbridled rage.

Bakura watched the breathtaking combustion with a growling, curling smile like a serpent's smirk that would not be out of place on a cat with all the metaphorical cream. The Prince's binds rattled and tightened and more than once he wondered if the beam would hold.

Atem's whole body shook and quivered with dangerous temper then suddenly he slumped back against the wall, his throbbing wrists twisting slightly, his breathing harsh and ragged beneath the gag and his whole body lax as if temporarily exhausted by his own outburst. When the Prince didn't recover after a few minutes, Bakura deemed it safe to approach and knelt down not a few inches from the Prince's angry face. Rocking back on his heels he waited for Atem's eyes to meet his and grinned when they snapped up, blazing with the beautiful fire that made the cerise orbs dance scarlet and flicker with gold like twin pools of trapped flames.

"Oh, come on, kitten, don't be like that?" he droned, dramatically. Overcome by his own confidence, he dropped his guard and dared a finger to stroke the Prince's chin. A thrill of utter delight chilled up his spine when he saw the Prince flinch at his touch.

"Tell you what," He dared another finger, slipping it towards the knot. "If you promise to behave—and not bite me—I'll take off the gag/ Sound fair?"

He didn't wait for a response as his long fingers brushed the princeling's cheek and slices through the knot. Atem ripped his face away with a vigorous shake of the head, ridding himself of the vile gaga and glared at Bakura, teeth flashing in a dangerous snarl.

"Manners Princes," he teased, the tone flamboyantly taunting like that of a pompous elder condescending a disobedient child then curled his thumb beneath the other's shin and lifted his face, wild, garnet eyes rising up to face him like a wild fire conflagrating from a few sparks.

Lips pulled back into a grin he leaned closer, grinning all the more as the Prince inched back and found himself trapped by the wall. "You wouldn't _really _hit the man who saved your life would you, little lion?"

He leaned in, ready to taste and claim once again those sweet lips whose softness and taste had haunted him for nearly half a year.

He didn't register the pain in his gut for all of a second before the shock and force struck him full and his lungs caught and sucked the breath back in. Atem's knee struck hard, aiming but his height and position got in the way and he missed the man's vulnerable groin, but the strike to his stomach offered the same affect. Temporarily stunned by shock and sudden pain, Bakura, froze, paralyzed. Ceasing the moment, Atem pulled back his thigh and poured all his frustration in rage into a swift kick to his chest that sent him flying backward, spiraling across the floor and eventually crashing into the opposite wall.

"Okay," Bakura gasped out the world with a barely audible wheeze. Rolling on to his stomach he managed to push himself to his knees, still gasping, his gut still throbbing, and he rose a single finger in a gesture of asking for a moment of peace. "I deserved that."

"You fucking son of the Apopis' bitch!" Atem howled, his tone shifting from low and dangerous to high and enraged, once again yanking at the linen's that held him captive. "Get me out these, this instant! I demand it! You_ will _release me this _instant! _You treacherous _thief!_" He bit back a hiss as his wrists twitched from pain and it was clear certain wounds had not yet heeled. "Why did you bring me here!" he commanded let his anger and regality bleed into his voice. "Well!?"

Bakura smirked. Oh yes, his fiery little kitten was just at fervent and ferocious as he had left him all those months ago, and by the _gods _did he miss this! It had been so long since he'd faced a worthy opponent—the Doorkeepers of the _nomach_ and estates he pilfered were just so easy, _too _easy. It was so simple to robe them and mock them for it that were was just no sport in it. The Valley of the Kings at least offered traps and mayhem but even Bakura wasn't stupid enough to risk his immortal soul by pissing off the Guardian Gods. Plus such a trip meant an audacious hike across the hot, barren desert with enough water and supplies to not only last the trip their but last the trip back. Gold and jewels were worthless is the only place you could use them was across a desert crowded with big cats and roaming jackals and a crocodile infested riverbank. It simply was not worth it for the sake of easing his boredom.

And besides, it was the _challenge_ he craved not the wealth. Stealing was an art, a game, and he was a grand masterpiece of both. No thief was ever more successful than he, or escaped as many times, or stole as many object and certainly not _returned_ as many. And _that _was why they called him King, because he was the greatest, he was the best, he was the only one never caught, never seen, never captured, never stopped. Unfortunately, as with any game or art it was lonely at the top. That was the problem with being the best: no one was better than you, or on parr with you, or challenges you. Boredom was bound to arise.

Then he's set his sights on the palace. At first it seemed even that wasn't challenge enough for the illusive King. True, the Medjy and Doorkeepers proved far more efficient then their country counterparts, but he expected no less from the men expected to lay down their lives for their King. And true the sheer number of them was certainly daunting, but his skills with shadows and acrobatics and distractions solved that little obstacle quite quickly. And _true, _he _did_ slip up that first night but it _was _only an excavation mission and it _did _work to his advantage in the long run. So it seemed, still, there was no one left to challenge the Thief King—in all honestly he would've just _left_ the puzzle there and let that be the end of it, not even feeling the challenge worthy of a note—

—and then he felt the blade press against his neck and knew he'd stumbled into a trap. A clever trap, set by an even more clever men. A bold, brilliant, brazen, beautiful man who with his fiery eyes and fierier temper and even more fiery tongue fearlessly faced him down and triumphed. A bold, beautiful, brazen man whose fiery eyes, and fierier temper and more fiery tongue obstinately invaded his mind and haunted his thoughts, dream and every waking moment, until all he could think about was when he could taste that sweet, sweet fire once again.

It was more than a simple sexual obsession, he knew. Oh yes, Atem was gorgeous, with that lithe dancer's figure, those corded muscles and the way his curved fit so perfectly against Atem's chest and thighs and groin, that stunning face whose beauty could rival the sun god's, that honey-gold skin that felt like warm silk beneath his fingers, like sand baked by the sun, and oh those gorgeous garnet eyes. Of course, Atem was beautiful. Of course, Bakura wanted him. But even _he_ couldn't deny it was a far worse obsession than sex.

His boundless confidence that never bordered on arrogance, the spunk he possessed, that fiery temper that sparked whenever he was angry, his fearless need to jump into any situation head first and do it all himself, that wicked determination to always be in control and that unyielding, unbreakable, untamable fight …it sent a fire to his groin.

By all the Gods he loved it! He _loved _a fight in his potential lovers, he needed it, craved it, absolutely relished in it! And in Atem he saw an equal who could and would do everything within his power to best him. And oh, how _delighted _was he to learn the feisty princeling was just as obsessed.

"Eh, still mad about that kiss, I see?" he rose to his feet, dusting himself off.

Atem's eyebrow visibly twitched and the fire in his eyes hardened to a smoldering crimson darkening even deeper with his growing rage,

"_That_ was no kiss," he snapped, venom dripping from each word. "_That _was a violation!"

"I'll take that as a yes, then." Bakura smirked. "Tell you what, we can be civil. If you promise to behave, I'll untie you. Fair?"

"RELEASE ME THIS INSTANT YOU RA BE DAMNED HEATHEN!"

"Oh, now that hurts," Bakura placed his hands over his chest in mock hurt, and gave a dramatic swoon, "I assure you, I respect and worship the Gods just as well as any other. I most certainly am _not _a heathen."

"You're a thief!" Atem shrieked, incredulously.

"So? We all must deal with the lot we're dealt in life. This is the one the gods gave me. Being forced to steal by them does not mean I respect them any less. I _do _care about my immorality."

"You're _insane!_" Atem released a growl that morphed into a scream.

"Quiet sane actually," Bakura corrected and resumed his position in front of Atem just out of reach of his dangerous claws and flailing limbs. "Now I'll ask you again, can you be civil or do I have to leave you tied up all night?"

Something like surprised flashed across Atem's face for half a second. He silenced, pondering his options even as his eyes never left the King's.

"Why did you being me here?" He demanded finally, all calmness and civility.

Bakura's smirked curled at the corners. "Do you really not know?"

The flash across his eyes told Bakura that he did, but as hoping he was wrong. Bakura's smiled widened further.

"Well, you see, little lion, you've left me in a bit of a bind...Before out little encounter all those months ago, I've lived my life on my own, caring for no one and nothing but my next score and keeping myself fed. I enjoy this life. Difficult as it may be, I like the challenge, the thrill..." There was almost mad brightness to his eyes as he said it.

It made Atem's spine shiver.

"I live for the chase, the challenge! Lately, however, I find myself...distracted, uninterested, craving a...different sort of challenge than the ones I'm used to. And it seems, if you will, to be brought on by a certain someone who fights like a dancer and just absolutely loves to glare at me with his pretty, fiery red eyes..."

Realization caused Atem's eyes to bulge. Horror, shock, fury, lust and too many other emotions thundered in his suddenly pounding heart. He wasn't...he couldn't be...he couldn't possibly be asking...

"So you see, little lion, the solution to my...well..._our_ problem is rather simple," he spoke it so casually and with all the ease of someone well practiced in such activities, but those brilliant twilight eyes burned with a hunger so fierce, it nearly stopped Atem's heart.

Bakura smiled, a curled, serpentine smile. "Let me fuck you."

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I think you'll all remember that cliffhanger from the tease I left in the edited version of the Lion and the Serpent ;) Wonder what's going to happen next...

This chapter was A LOT of fun to write and surprisingly easy. God I miss writing Bakura! He's such a fun character! Granted I think I made him a bit more dramatic and flamboyant than his anime/manga counterpart but for some reason it just seemed to fit him. Plus his POV is SO much fun! I probably won't do a POV switch each chapter but for these first two it just worked!


	3. Chapter 3

Holy freaking hell in a hand basket Its finally DONE! Exactly 7 months later IT. IS. DONE!  
Holy Hell, this things took for fucking EVER! I went through at least five or six outlines for this chapter before I actually started writing it, and somehow someway i managed to write it all up yesterday! WOOHOO! Some Good came out of this Corvid-19 thing!  
Anyway, hope you guys enjoy. Sorry again for the wait. Fortunately next Chapter should be up MUCH faster...  
and if you haven't checked it out already, Check out the Next Installment in the InterTwined Trilogy Persistence of Memory (both stories work together though this series is definitely a bit behind in that regard, but hopefully now that I'm home i'll be able to write a lot more and get some updates out ;)

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III

All Atem's anger, all his defenses, all his bravado abandoned him in one big whoosh. Already he could feel the glowing blush blooming up his neck and face.

"You…" It was the only word Atem's shock allowed. "What?"

Bakura's serpentine grin curled at the corners. His indigo gaze electrified several shades. "You heard me," he said with a chuckle.

"NO!" Atem refused outright, furious the thief would even _ask_.

His anger returned in full, furious force and oh, how he _loved_ those dark, deviant eyes! Like volcanic rubies, vigorous and vehement, until his whole body bristled with barley controlled ire. He jerked furiously at his restraint. Put his whole body into the effort like a lion intending to pounce: claws extended, flexed and those fiery eyes absolutely blazing! Even his fiery black hair burned about him—a sleeping lion ready to shred his enemy.

_Gods _he was beautiful when he was angry.

Bakura's gaze electrified several shades, a twinkle of amusement danced in his serpentine smirk. "You know, Princess, you're cute when you're all riled up and angry. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Whatever retort Atem had prepared in protest died in his throat as shock and comprehension sunk in. "What?"

Bakura giggled—a tiny, playful, wisp of sound, by Ra the man actually _giggled_! "I said you're cute. You get all huffy and puffed up like an angry kitten trying to be a wild cat, all teeth and claws and hisses."

A flabbergasted blink was Atem's only response. No one had ever called him _cute_. Oh sure citizens, priests, men and women alike spoke fondly of his handsome appearance and beauty (all traits his father claimed he inherited from his mother) but no one ever called him anything as simple as cute? Let alone said he was cute when he was _angry_.

Then again when was the last time anyone saw him angry.

When was the last time he _allowed_ himself to get angry beyond mere annoyance.

It was undignified for a Prince of Kemet to lose his temper…and yet… he'd lost it more times in the span of a few short months than he had in his lifetime. Even when he was a pouting, pompous child.

And it was all because of _this _man! That single fact alone fired his blood!

"No!" It came out in a furious snarl that morphed into an angry growl. "Why would you even ask me that!?" He demanded, indignant with fury.

The Thief already knew he didn't mean the "cute" comment.

"Why _not_?" Bakura smirked, swaggered—all fluid serpentine grace, and predatory intent. "It's no secret I'm attracted to you. How could I not be, you're…" he paused deliberately, his mouth suddenly dry. "_Lovely._"

Shock transformed Atem's face. No one had ever called him _that_ before? And no one ever said it that…_that _way before either. With such a husky, sultry drawl.

Another shiver ran involuntarily up Atem's spine. His throat clogged suddenly dry. He swallowed hoping to act would calm him. It didn't.

"More than just that," the Thief dropped to his knees, crawled towards him. Atem's heart pounded harder and louder with each step. Oh heavenly Ra, was it possible for that voice gruff, husky voice to get even lower. "You _enthrall _me. I want someone who enjoys battling me, Hell, I _crave _it!" He leaned closer, violet eyes blazing, voice frenetic as though possessed by a sudden madness. And oh, how Atem wished he could move back, but he was already pressed impossibly close against the wall and his bonds offered no room for sideways movement.

"I _love_ that about you!" the thief crept closer. "Your fight." Closer. "Your wit." Slid between Atem's knees. "Your temper." Stopped mere inches from Atem's face: those penetrating purple eyes locked with glittering garnet. "That fearless way you challenge me." Atem couldn't stop shaking. His heart _wouldn't_ stop pounding. "Gods above, I'd love to have that fire sprawled across my sheets."

Atem thought his heart would _burst_.

"I want you, Princess, and even though you absolutely _refuse _to admit it, even to yourself, _you _want _me_, too…"

Oh those damned serpentine eyes that had no right to be as electrifyingly enthralling as they were. Even now, their indigo colors brightened and shadowed in the dappled light of the cave shifting between amethyst and lilac in a way that made Atem shiver. The worst part was those jeweled eyes did nothing to hide themselves or their emotions. No, everything the Thief King felt and thought, all his gleeful amusement and wicked delights and primal passion was visible and on display in those magnificent twilight eyes.

Summoning the last of his dignity and rage, Atem steeled himself. "I. Am not. A whore." He spat, a harsh hiss of sound.

"I know _that_," Bakura sighed dramatically, chuckling.

Atem arched a confused eyebrow but his expression did not soften.

Bakura only snickered. He was still kneeling before the King, braced his elbows on his knees, propped his chin in the crook of his folded fingers. "Given your reaction to me stealing your first kiss, I'm not the least bit surprised you've never indulged yourself in the pleasures of the flesh."

Nothing, not even Atem's own will could stop the color he knew was burning up his cheeks. The Thief's snicker only confirmed it.

Atem growled, hardened his expression.

The Thief's eyes only glittered. "I admit I was a bit the surprised the ever popular Crown Prince had never experienced a hunt in the marshlands," he chuckled again. Atem felt is flush darkening. "Since last we met, you're what? Just shy of sixteen summers?" He shrugged, all casual coolness.

"_Seventeen_," Atem spat.

Something like surprised flashed across those smoky violet eyes. Then vanished, quickly. So quickly, had his keen eyes not been focused, Atem might've missed it.

"Not that I would've cared regardless?" Oh how those damned eyes glittered. Smoke cast a gray tint dying them the dark violet color of twilight in all its dark, dangerous pleasures and promises. "I can assure you, _I _will surpass any lover you may or may not have had."

The sheer arrogance of that statement took Atem's breath away, but he recovered quickly and growled furiously. His brows twitched in rising vexation. "I. Don't. Want. You."

That damned, damned smirk only widened. "Yes, you do." He taunted with a playful smirk, igniting a challenge. He leaned closer. So close his next words were a ghost across Atem's lips. "_Everyone _wants me."

"_Not me!" _The Prince protested quickly. _Too _quickly. The thief was hovering over him now, using his height and position to his advantage but Atem shot up, fiery eyes blazing into those glittering jewels of smoky amethyst.

Bakura laughed once, a harsh bark of sound. Then his eyes shadowed. His face a grave grin. "Kiss me."

"What!?" Atem shrieked, half-furious.

"_Kiss._ Me." Bakura demanded softly locking their eyes.

"No!" Atem retorted becoming fiery and wrenched at his bonds, despite the pain.

Bakura raised his hands to grab Atem's, pinning him until he stopped. In response, Bakura leveled their gazes: eyes and lips barely a breath apart.

"Kiss me." His soft sigh ghosted over Atem's cheek witch such tenderness it made him shudder—from delight or dread, even Atem did not know, and that terrified him more than anything else.

They were so close now…close enough that Atem could recognize every line and detail of the man's handsome face: every sharp angle, every delicate curve, every pale scar, the elegant arch of his brow, the smoke dancing in his eyes, every subtle twitch of his grin, every shadow accenting his burnt ocher skin, the delicate details of that four-stitched scar beneath his right eye. And yet that scar did nothing to mar his face. If anything it only enhanced the natural, primal wildness of him. He was like a cracked vase or a desert stallion: damaged but lovely, savagely untamed but magnificent in his power and prowess and made all the more so _because_ of those flaws. Even the shadow served to accentuate him in a way the light never could.

Dear Ra, Had Bakura always been so beautiful?

"N-No."

The slight stutter made Bakura's eyes light up: bright, serpentine amethysts. "No?"

Atem felt his heart thud in his chest. He sensed a trap in the man's words and refused to be lured, said nothing. His eyes looked between those gleaming violet eyes and Bakura's hovering lips.

He was in the perfect position for Atem to strike him. And yet, the thought never once crossed his mind.

The Thief King's smile curled then, hovering just a bit closer.

Atem breathed out—and Bakura's lips enclosed over his. Atem gasped and Bakura pressed deeper. His lips were coarse, his taste sour, but his mouth was warm, his kiss soft. He gasped softly when Bakura pulled away slightly only to find each other's lips once more. All his resolve melted with that single touch.

It was _nothing _like their first kiss.

Despite how gentle it actually was, Atem trembled under the intensity of it. Every lapse in contact made his breath hitch. Every new contact made his body shake. He felt something rough brush his cheek and opened his eyes, not remembering when he'd closed them, and pulled away. Bakura's hard hand cupped his cheek, arched up his mouth to meet his lips again. His other removed something from his belt. A gleam was all Atem saw before, with two quick strokes, his wrists were freed.

Subconsciously, they fell to the Thief's shoulders—to push him away or pull him closer, even Atem did not know.

The blade returned to his belt, Bakura's free arm snaked around Atem's waist lifting him up and into another kiss. Pulling the smaller body up with his. Pushing him back against the sandy stone. His hard, heavy body pressed flush against Atem's lean, slender one.

Atem fell into the embrace, seduced and confused. His now free fingers desperately curling into the rough material of the Thief's coat. Those firm lips claiming his in another intense kiss.

How? How could hands so rough be so gentle? Lips so course be so soft? A man so abrasive be so…so…

"You feel it don't you?" Bakura whispered. The words a wisp against Atem's ear: sudden, light, and feather-textured. It made him shiver.

Atem breathed deeply. His hands slipping away and steading himself against the stone. A hazy fog clouding his mind and vision so all he could see was smoke and twilight and serpentine eyes.

"You can't deny it?" The voice said again. "The tension tightening your bones, the fire scorching your veins whenever you think of me, your very _being_ calling out to me?"

Atem's mind cleared recognizing that cocky arrogance, that chuckle of absolute triumph. His entire body transformed with fury: blazing eyes and gritted teeth and silent snarls.

Bakura only grinned. "I know you've been leading the search for me, Atem."

The prince froze, overcome. It was the first time Bakura had used his name.

"I've watched you from a far, always staying one step ahead, but just barely…" His voice was all breath: playfully amused yet stalwart and serious. "My Ra, I haven't had such a challenge in ages!" He ran a long-fingered hand through those spiky bangs. Those violet eyes, flashing with mad indigo fire. "Just when thieving was about to become stale for me, _you_ come charging in absolutely _determined_ to hunt me down! You almost got me too, more than once I might add. Apep and all his devils, I hadn't felt such a rush in so long!" His words were a single, breathy laugh.

He spun back to Atem, his smirk twisted and untwisted into its own secret sort of smile. One that blazed with victory. "But why _is_ that, Princess?" He cocked his head like a bird's. Confidence radiating off him like a cat with a bird.

Or a snake.

"Why have _you_ been so determined to track me down?" He pulled back, swaggering back and forth. "Why not send your best men? Your finest hunters. Hell, your _soldiers_? Why do it yourself?"

He paced making gestures with his hands. His eyes never leaving Atem's.

Then he stopped. Smirked: all teeth and fangs and serpentine victory. "Why come after me, _personally_? Hmm?"

Atem snarled in response.

It was the one question Atem knew he couldn't answer. As fierce and furiously as he denied it. As much as he protested and promised to everyone, even to himself…

"It's because of that kiss isn't it."

It wasn't a question and Atem knew it.

"That single moment of passion and I have you obsessed with me."

His only answer was a blazing glare.

Bakura only smiled, swaggered closer. Atem stepped back, slipped further down the corridor, but Bakura matched his retreat step for step. His eyes never leaving Atem's.

Atem dashed. The thief was on him in an instant. His back slammed against the wall, pinioned on either side by the Thief's strong hands and a knee, wisely pinning his thigh. The Prince struck like a cornered cat, but Bakura caught the punch easy, and his second and pinned his wrists above his head with one, heavy hand.

Atem screamed, writhed in absolute fury before collapsing under the weight of it.

"You want to know why, don't you?" He brushed the words against Atem's ear. "Why I kissed you? What it means? You're determined to know aren't you? You're _desperate._"

Atem glared up at him: flaming sunset eyes bore into smoky twilight.

"Alright then," Bakura's eyes alighted, accepting the challenge. "About a wager?" He pulled something from his belt and held it up for his inspection: a small hourglass. "Until the sand runs out, you are not allowed to make a sound, if you do, you lose. If you don't, you win. Sound simple?"

"And you?" Atem accused, jerking at his wrists, but Bakura's grip was strong. He didn't trust the thief to make a wager he couldn't win.

"_I _am free to do whatever. I. _wish_." He punctured each word, his twilight eyes ablaze in a way that set Atem's skin on fire.

"And the stakes?" Atem's glare sharpened even as his voice trembled.

Bakura shrugged. "If I win, I'll answer all your questions and I'll even take you home. Blindfolded, of course, can't have you revealing my favorite hide out, well, _one _of my favorite hide outs. But if _I _win…" All casual playfulness vanished as hand caressed Atem's cheek his expression was that of a predator ready and eager to devour its prey. "Then you're _mine_."

He needed no further explanation.

"Well?" Bakura drew out the word, waiting.

So many thoughts ran through Atem's mind as his heart raced. Too many…

And yet…

And _yet_…

"Deal."

PHEW! God, God i love the sexual tension between these two-difficult as it is to get right.

* * *

Quick Notes:

Hunting in the Marshlands-a euphemism for sex and sexual intercourse in Ancient Egyptian culture.

Based on the manga translation and Takehashi's notes I estimate Atem's age to be about sixteen...Bakura's is a bit more tricky to figure out but I've a plan for the one ;)

as always read, review, critique, comment, and enjoy!


	4. IV

Ah-hu-HAHA! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Brown Kuriboh/Kuri: We'll she's lost it.  
(The kuriboh siblibsgs all hold up index cards to make announcements  
Kuri: The Queen of Plot Twists is Broken! With the completion of this chapter she had fully embraced her insanity!  
Purple Kuriboh/Lavender: That said, she is very proud to have completed this chapter within in less than a week, and hope you all shall appreciate the effort.  
White kuriboh/Snow: WARNING! PEASE PAY ATTENTION! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SLAH, YAOI, LEMON, AKA INTENSE, PASSONATE, SUPER HOT BOY SEX BETWEEN TWO HOT BOYS.  
Turquise kuriboh/Perdo: You all knew what you were getting yourself into.  
Snowy: THERE WILL B ANAL, FINGERING, POWERPLAY AND DUBIOUS CONTENT  
Pink Kuriboh/Strawberry: but not really…  
Lavender: This is dark shipping you all knew what you were getting yourselves into.  
Snowy: THAT BEING SAID, THE QUEEN OF PLOT TWISTS AND HER MINIONS WILL NOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR MEDICAL COMPLICATIONS DUE TO THE READING OF THIS CHAPTER, SUCH MAY INCLUDE BUT NOT LIMITED TO: DEHYDRATION, NOSE BLEEDS, CARIDAC ARREST, HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE, TEMPORAY DELIRIUM, STROKE AND IN FAR MORE COMMON CASES THAN YOU THINK TEMPROARY DEATH.  
Kuri: Electro pads are available on standby for Orochi-Dragon14 because she is special  
Lavender: Disclaimed: this is a fictionalized retelling of the work by Kauki Takehashi who should absolutely be recommended for Sainthood and does not belong to the author. She claims nothing but her own imagination  
Perdo: why do we still do those?  
Strawberry: on a final note, Queen of Plot Twists and her minions would like to Dedicate this chapter to all darkshippers everywhere because you are awesome and this pairing deserves so much more love than what it gets!

* * *

IV

Bakura'a face twisted with absolute triumph. He flipped the hourglass over in his hand then dropped it.

"Good." Not bothering to check if it landed, he swooped forward and captured the trapped prince's lips in a soft, tender kiss. Rough fingers, light as moth wings, brushed his knee then fluttered up his thigh then slid beneath the cloth of his _shenti_.

Atem sucked in a breath. Taking advantage of the sudden opening, Bakura thrusts his tongue into Atem's mouth, tasting his sweet fire. Atem's eyes bulged open, his senses suddenly assaulted by the taste of blood and chaos and fine wine: something rich, and wild and earthy and all-consuming. His mouth, so hot, so skilled; his body, so hard, so strong; his hands, air light and feather-textured on his skin. And Atem could do nothing but give and give, and give even as some shocking, unrecognizable part of him urged him to take.

He'd expected pain, what he got was _torture_.

With a herculean effort, Atem swallowed a moan rising in his throat and freed himself from the kiss. He barely had time to catch his breath before Bakura's mouth was on his again, rough and ruthless, but Atem was ready this time and forced his lips closed. Heavens help him if the man kissed him like that again he'd be lost.

Changing tactic, Bakura pulled away and stroked his fingers up and down the junction of Atem's pelvis and inner thigh, teasing places he had no right to tease so tenderly. Atem could only shudder. And oh, what a delicious shudder it was. The boy's inexperience shinned through though he did everything within his power to hide it: every soft breath peppered goose flesh across his skin, every touch electrified his senses, every kiss had him quivering with desire. Gods above Atem was beautiful, even more so in his innocence. It made Bakura want to taint him, darken him, rip away his chains and controls until before him was the wet, willing, wildfire wanton in all his untamed glory, Bakura knew existed beneath that calm, confident exterior.

Emboldened by that fierce decision, Bakura slid his free hand up the boy's thigh and up the sculpted curve of his splendid ass. Then, quick as a cobra, he ceased that soft, subtle globe the same time he released the prince's hands to cease a handful of soft shadowy dresses, and gave both an abrasive squeeze.

Atem's mouth flew open in a voiceless scream—only his iron control kept it in his throat. His hands flew to the wrist in his hair and glared at the man, scarlet eyes on fire. Only Bakura's keen sight caught the spark there—bright and intense, glazed with confusion and pleasure. He took in those big, luminous eyes, blazing even now with defiance as well as delight, and shuddered, himself.

With predatory hunger, he pulled back the soft locks, exposing the delicious caramel channel of the boy's neck and attacked it with hot, wet, kisses. Atem chocked on air: sharp and sudden, though not from shock or horror. Bakura chuckled against his neck, the vibration warm and riveting against his skin. That talented tongue dipped once more into the hollow of his neck. A moan escaped Atem's lips without permission.

"I'll let you have that one," his voice grinds, rough and raw. His tongue returned to teasing his neck, the same time his other hand started kneading the refined flesh of his bottom.

Atem's leg curled up, the other straightened in a desperate attempt to steady himself. His back arched into the older man's touch, though his mind rebelled, and his nails sank into the wrists still pulling his hair, though even he knew it was for support more than anything else. His legs trembled and weakened under the talented hand kneading his most sensitive flesh. Those rough fingers tapping, walking, probing towards the valley between his cheeks. That fervent tongue dipped lower, peppering kisses across his collar bone. The hand at his hair released and Atem bobbed his head forward so grateful for the reprieve he nearly sobbed. His hands fell to the thief's shoulders intending to shove him away.

The thought vanished as soon as Atem's hands touched him. His skin was warm like sand baked by the sun. Powerful shoulders and firm muscles riveted beneath his fingers and palms. Subconsciously, Atem found his hands moving lower, smoothing over hills and ridges of firm muscles and scared skin. Everything was gloriously toned, sharp in all the right places but hard and calloused like an unpolished stone cut straight from the earth.

The tongue at his neck fell away. The hand at his bottom ceased moving, and Atem found himself standing on unsteady legs. He opened his eyes, not remembering when he'd closed him and found himself staring helplessly into penetrating eyes and an indulgent smile. He should've been weary of those eyes, the way they flashed sultry with dark energy. And yet this close, they took on deeper, darker hues. Like moonlit pools or the darkness between dusk and starlight, reflecting each and every shade of violet until Atem's whole world turned that color.

He couldn't stop the breath that escaped him.

He didn't want to.

Bakura's smile came again: slow, easy and devastating. It set his insides fluttering and his mind into a buzzing haze of static. Some part of him urged him to fight, to strike, and take control but the rest of him was readily devouring all that he gave him. Lips pressed against his in a possessive kiss.

Atem's heart galloped like a runaway horse.

He was close, and Bakura knew it. Tasted it on those sweet, fiery lips. But it wasn't enough: he wanted Atem to break, to surrender. He wanted to watch Atem come undone. Snaking his hands up either side of that perfect, curved, dancer's body, he raked his fingers down, smoothing over crisp curves and slender hips. Atem's skin burned his fingers even through the fabric of this tunic like fire itself burned beneath him. It would not surprise him if it did. He swallowed Atem's moan then ceased his hips, rubbed his thumbs over the junction between the man's hips and pelvis. Atem shuddered and bucked his hips into the touch, sending a shiver of pride through him.

He pulled their hips together brushing their clothed erections together, and smirked wider when Atem broke the kiss to moan. Ceasing the opportunity, Bakura slid himself between those soft, quivering thighs, his knee, wisely pinning Atem's leg in place and his own neglected length, thick and heavy against the boy's shaking leg.

Atem's eyes bulged with a mesh of conflicting emotions: anger and excitement, confusion and desire, shock and want. When he looked up again, Bakura drank in his glorious expression like a dehydrated man lost in the desert. One hand still holding his hip steady, Bakura snaked its twin between them, spidering over the thin material of Atem's shenti. Ghosting over the exposed skin of his thigh, he slid his hand up to the one place the boy wished so desperately to be touched. A rough palm slid down and around the evidence of the prince's arousal—and squeezed.

Atem swallowed a scream. His stomach twisted with a vicious shock of hunger that refused to be sated. His hands, still gripping the thief's shoulders, sank into that warm skin desperate for purchase as the rest of his body jerked and quivered, abandoning him and suddenly independent of his will, until only the bruising grip on his hip kept him upright. Bakura laughed above him, _laughed_, and it was a rich, roaring sound that both infuriated him and set his blood scolding.

Bakura squeezed him again, rough fingers and a coarse palm sliding over every fantastic inch of him. Senses bombarded him all at once so intense and sudden it was all Atem could do not to forfeit their game right then and there. He was hot and heavy in the thief's hand and those talented fingers knew just where to touch to make him shiver. Heat pooled in the bit of his stomach, consumed his entire body, burning like his skin had been set on fire and yet he wanted nothing more for than for that burn to devour him completely.

Atem opened his eyes, again not remembering when he'd closed them, when a rough hand cupped his cheek. He met the man's dark gaze. His thick voice rolling languidly down Atem's spine: rough and ragged and relaxed as thunder just beyond the Desert Mountains.

"Let go," he commanded, soft as a kiss.

Oh Gods, how he wanted nothing more than to obey those words.

"Let go," he sang them this time, so cool and confident. So convinced he'd won.

And that single realization fired Atem's blood.

Atem shot up and Bakura was surprised to see enraged rubies, glittering in their defiance instead of the submissiveness he'd been expecting. Rebellion glittered there like a wild animal resisting its cage and beating against the bars until they splintered.

A growl of anticipation, annoyance and something like excitement brightened those fervent eyes. And when he spoke next his words and touches were a wildfire absent gentleness and absent control.

"Let go!"

Rage, rebellion, defiance: everything Atem had ever buried deep within himself bubbled to the surface in a rising fervor. A fire that had been reduced to smoldering embers by duty and discipline flared and roared, fueled by his own boldness until a wildfire conflagration and everything that was Atem exploded to the surface—an unstoppable force tearing down empires and destroying everything in his path. The cage bars broke and shattered, the chains snapped and the wild darkness that would make both Seth and Sekhmet proud came as a burst of strength and power that finally consumed him.

"Ah!" White light and fire exploded behind Atem's eyes turning his vision white and rocketing pleasure through his entire being until his very soul felt lost and lazy from the force of it. Empowered rather than diminished by his orgasm, Atem shoved Bakura away who stumbled backwards, his face a mask of surprise and it was several clumsy steps until he was able to regain his footing.

He stood there wide-eyed and stupefied as Atem stood there, shaky, but only for a moment his stance unsteady but stable. His flaming hair fell in a mane around his face and those ruby eyes blazed with a passion that transcended any single emotions.

Bakura stumbled back stunned—by the rejection or Atem's lack of exhaustion he did not know. His eyes brightened suddenly and delight transformed his face. His laugher was all breath and his eyes came alive with a sudden, furious fervor. "Spectacular." The word was a harsh, husky rasp of sound.

Absolute triumph took command of Atem's features. "Did you really think it would be that easy…" he said with a wicked smirk and unwavering eyes. "To tame _me._"

"Like a fucking god," Victorious glee in those ardent eyes. Crossed his arms, but looking in no way disappointed, Bakura shifted his eyes.

Atem followed his gaze and found the hourglass settled innocently on the beam where he'd once been tied up. Its top half was empty. He didn't know if that meant he'd won or not.

He turned back to Bakura who stood there watching, waiting, wanting, but making no move to coerce him. It stirred something lost inside him: something fervent and furious and wild and wonderful and powerful and sent a whirlwind of pride blazing through him.

His eyes never leaving the Thief King's, Atem smacked the offending object away and pounced into the King's waiting arms and captured his lips in a fierce and fiery kiss.

They fell back against the ground hitting the floor with a dull thud. Caught up in Bakura's embrace and sprawled out atop him, Atem reached to cup his face, hands tangling in the white, messy hair. Bakura smirked into younger's lips, pulling away to catch him once more in a teasing kiss. His hands slid down Atem's back: one moving up and down his tunic, the other moving lower. Sliding up under his _shenti _over the perfect subtle globes of his ass and up the smooth, taunt channel of his back. But the belt about the prince's waist got in the way and his other hand was quick to tug it free. The folds of the tunic followed his roving hand and they broke the kiss only for Atem to allow Bakura to pull it up and over his head.

"By the Gods," the words came out harsh and heavy with admiration. "You truly are a God made of flesh."

The gold expanses of skin and flesh now exposed to his hungry gaze, Bakura drank in the sight of the now naked prince on top of him: long muscular legs, broad shoulders and strong arms, richly toned torso and the smoothest, most delicious caramel skin he'd ever seen. It made him want to ruin it: to litter it with bruises and kisses and marks, _his _marks. Evidence that this glorious golden god was his and no one else's. Rough fingertips explored the marked lines of his stomach now exposed to air, brushing the firm muscles with a ghostly touch. Atem shuddered under his hands but was not shy.

His own hands riveted up and over the fine muscle of his sculpted chest starting at those firm abs and tracing the pale white scars. His lips bent down feathering kisses over each one. Bakura responded with a deep guttural groan, low in his throat. While Atem's lips worked their magic over his chest and scars, his hands moved further ghosting over the strong bones of his hips, the low arrow of his pelvis and towards those strong powerful legs. His eyes blazing with an almost animistic approval. And Bakura called _him_ glorious?

"Bakura…" he tested the name on his tongue and loved the way it tasted. "That's a Sanskrit name isn't it?"

Bakura blinked, caught off guard by the sultry way his name rolled off the other's tongue and how it affected him. By the Gods he could climax from that voice alone. He honestly did not know where his name came from. He'd been too young to know and could no longer ask the parents that gave it to him.

A look of pure lustrous contentment overcame the prince's face as his fingers traced every inch of him. "If I remember correctly," a deliberate pause. He crawled over him them, meeting their gazed, those magnificent ruby eyes were on fire. "It means _glorious."_ He chanted that word as if it were sacred, hands smoothing back up and over the landscape of muscles and scars, rolled over those powerful shoulders and pushed inside the folds of that over-sized robe. "It suits you." For truly, every inch of this man's flesh was _gloriously _sculpted as if wrought from the Gods by their most primal magic.

Bakura swept him up in to a harsh, hungry kiss. Dominating the kiss, he rolled them over and plunged his tongue past those petal soft lips, but this time Atem was waiting for him and eagerly greeted his challenge. Salt and spices, chaos and fire, sweet pomegranates and finely-aged wine devoured their sense and taste buds: the taste so exotic and unusual and so delectable Bakura could get drunk off of it. Judging from the dazed look upon Atem's face, he already was. The prince groaned into the kiss, fought briefly before submitting to Bakura's demanding requests. Shaking hands pushed his coat down and off his arms.

Bakura pulled away allowing the coat to puddle to the ground and admired the dazed, delirious look upon the prince's face: all lusty eyes and parted lips and _Gods_ he had to remind himself to go slow, less he break the still chaste prince.

Rising from the floor, Bakura took the dazed Atem with him, pulled him flush against his chest, that subtle flesh somehow soft and firm at once, and stole another kiss from his lips. His bare arms wrapped rightly around Atem's slim waist grasping slender hips and that plump, pleasant ass. Atem did nothing to resist and wrapped his arms around the Thief's strong neck, tangled his fingers in that wild white hair, pushed himself up against him to make up for the difference in their height. Soft, subtle, saffron flesh molded against Bakura's harder, stronger, darker body. And yet somehow they fit together perfectly. Like two pieces of a puzzle. They should not have but they did and did so spectacularly.

Like Seth and Heru.

Feeling the softness of the boy's flesh beneath him including the handfuls of his ass that he now squeezed—earning a delicious gasp from the prince he was still kissing—Bakura recalled vividly and in splendid detail, Seth description of his own golden lover Heru. The similarities so striking Bakura thought perhaps there was some truth to the royal houses being descendent from Heru himself, for surely it was a God he now held in his arms. Whatever divinity could possibly bring itself to part with its youngest and more magnificent treasure, Bakura would never know, but was eternally grateful. Just the press of that soft flesh against his own, the warmth of that skin on his, those soft lips against his lips: never in all his life had Bakura felt such rapture, such lust, such desire. Such _need._

And from the impatient way Atem pushed and moved against him, fraying the tethers of his control so effectively he thought he just might abandon caution and take the boy rough and raw right then and there, Atem felt the same way, but Bakura forced himself to refrain. Restraint did not come easy to him, but he would manage. Eager as the prince was, he knew nothing of marshland hunts (though those devilish hands and sensual way he moved his body against Bakura's own stirring his hardness to life in ways he never thought possible, invited the doubt), and Bakura would not, _could _not, break him—but neither was this a fragile piece of glass in his arms either and if Atem intended to act as such (though Bakura doubted it) then he was in for a rude awakening to Bakura's true nature.

Then suddenly, almost coyly, Atem pulled away and Bakura felt his absence cut like a fierce frigid wind in a sandstorm. Hands behind his back, bent forward just slightly so his spectacular golden skin and ready flesh was on full display and a coquettish grin that had no hopes of ever being innocent, Atem took slow, steady steps backward, before turning around grinning at the thief over his shoulder. He walked in a straight line, like a cat, those slender hips and subtle backside swaying enticingly back and forth as he walked deeper into the dark, stone space with all the swagger of a pampered housecat.

A guttural growl like a starving lion was his only warning before a hand was clammed over his mouth, the other slamming him backward against a strong, hard body, pushing his bottom against its hardness. That glorious flesh thrust up, parting his cheeks and thickening, pulsating, burning his most sensitive part even through the material of the _shenti_ he still wore.

Oh, Atem could not _wait _to get it inside of him.

"Did you really think you could escape me?" Bakura hissed, low and lethal like an asp, absolutely _delighting _in the way Atem tried to push backwards, as if desperate to get him inside him. Atem's response was a shudder of pure and absolute want, so strong his whole body absolutely quivered.

Unable to wait another moment, Bakura shoved him towards the corner of the house were a wide low table piled high with pillows and furs acted as a bed, attacking his neck and shoulder blades with fierce kisses and sharp bites. Unprepared for the sudden movement, Atem simply followed, surprised again when they suddenly stopped. Through his dazed vision, he saw Bakura sink his fingers into what looked like an oil pot, but was unable to ask what it was for. The thought vanished completely when something slick and strong he realized too late was Bakura's fingers parted his bottom and pushed inside him. Atem screamed into Bakura's hand.

His legs all but gave out beneath him and he collapsed forward steading himself on shaky hands on the makeshift bed. The hand left his mouth, allowing him to pant and hiss and moan as his insides squeezed around the invading digits, probing deeper inside of him. Bakura's arm slid down, snaked around his waist and he felt the other's chest against his back, pushing him forward until he was bent over the table and absolutely powerless to do anything about it.

Atem had never been so terrified and thrilled in all of his life.

Those finger pushed, probed, thrust, scissored, and stretched: sending shockwaves of both pain and pleasure rocketing through his body causing spasms of desire. His shaky arms stumbled, his thighs quaked and his legs quivered: he knew well the only thing holding him up right now was Bakura and the strong arm tightening around his waist. Another finger dug and forced it way inside and this time Atem dropped to the table eyes closed and gritting his teeth to suppress a whimper of pain.

"Relax," came the soft command. Atem looked over this shoulder: Bakura looked just as tortured as he did. Suddenly, he felt the other's hips jerk. Something hot and thick and pulsating, brushed against Atem's cock and he moaned uncontrollably. His mind clouded over in pleasure and his body followed suit relaxing and unflexing. Bakura took advantage of this state and twisted his fingers, curled them upward, stretched them wide until the most delicious and delectable string of sounds escaped Atem in a symphony of grunts, hisses, moans and whimpers.

"Bakura…" Atem hissed, clawing at the blankets. "Just do it," he commanded, authoritative even like this. That single display of power excited Bakura like nothing else.

"As you wish," with a final upward thrust that he was certain made stars explode behind Atem's eyes with the way he melted into him. Bakura removed his fingers, spun the prince around and pushed him back against the bed. Sprawled across the pillow, face flushed vermilion, eyes clouded over with lust and yet lost none of their dominance, Bakura was certain he'd never seen anything more beautiful in all his life.

Tearing away the last of his clothing, scooping and slathering a generous handful of oil over his length, he slid between the prince's thighs, capture his lips in a hot, hungry kiss and thrust, slowly, slowly, slowly, inside of him.

Oh, how Atem _screamed_. Golden fingers latched onto those taunt arms and squeezed long after Bakura has filled him completely. The fit was so tight Atem could _feel_ Bakura's arousal, pulsing and throbbing inside him and his own insides flexing tightly around it, a thick pulse inside of him and Gods Above and Beyond he was _enormous._

"Fuck!" Bakura hissed out in a single breath, Atem's having long since frozen in his throat. He had felt the other's burning heat and cramped muscles around his fingers but _nothing_ could've prepared him for the tight molten heat that was Prince Atem. Even now, the other's velvety insides stroked and massaged and flexed about his member, as if trying to swallow him whole and keep him there.

Both of them spasmed, caught off guard by the magnificent, all consuming heat between them. Atem truly was liquid fire, Bakura decided. And he was wild chaos in all its fantastical glory. Seeing the other's haughty, hungry gaze burning with want, Bakura decided he'd waited enough and with torturously aching slowness that whipped that smirk right off Atem's face, he slowly retracted his body—then slammed right back in.

Atem's eyes bulged out of his skull and his breath was a huge guttural moan that told Bakura he'd found it—the one place Atem could never deny him. He set a hard, heavy pace rapidly building momentum and adjusting the angle of his thrusts so that all Atem felt was pleasure. Reducing the boy to a wet, whining wanton mess beneath him and Bakura _loved _it.

Atem raked his nails down Bakura arms and back, desperately clinging and trying to gain purchase of some kind. His feet curled besides him and he fought and failed to regain control of his hips but he was lost in pleasure. Bakura's rapid movements were too much for him to meet let along master and he soon found he had no choice but to surrender to the force of it. Collapsing against the bed he offered the thief one last defiant look before surrendering completely to the onslaught of pleasure and pain wracking his body.

Atem squirmed and shook: arms and legs trembling and a harmony of melodious moans and wanton whimpers escaped him as Bakura thrust deeper, moved faster, pushed harder. His fists slammed the bed beside Atem's head steadying himself as he filled that glorious body with all he had to offer. By the gods, no one he'd ever had before felt this good, this perfect: sweltering heat and scorching muscles welcomed him every time he pushed into Atem's body. Every tight squeeze excited and devoured him as if desperate to keep him there. Every touch sent his pulsating cock, trembling and hardening until he thought his very heart would burst. He increased the pace as much as he was able, determined to keep those few torturous seconds they were apart as minimal as possible. Atem's nails sinking into his skin only served to further stimulate him, those quivering thighs squeezing his hips further encouraged him until he, feeling his end approaching and the unstoppable force of it, ceased his lover by the underarms and pressed his lips to Atem's in one final, explosive kiss. Angling his hips just right he thrust up the same time Atem's own body pushed down and the tightening of the other's walls around him and that pulsating prostate against his tip—it was all he needed.

He came with a scream of Atem's name on his lips.

Atem merely screamed. His own climax struck him so suddenly and so powerfully, he thought his whole body had burst from it and collapsed, limp as a rag doll. He was offered no reprieved as liquid heat burst like the flooding of the Nile inside him. His eyes shot open in surprise and discomfort and he shuddered in a whimper as wave after wave of liquid heat coated his insides and filled him to the brim.

Two strong arms wrapped around him and made a soft shushing sound and he was stunned to realize it was Bakura holding him, calming him, brushing his hair back from his face. When he was finally able to calm down, they fell back against the bed together, lost and dazed minds clouded and spent.

Was this what it was like to make love? Atem wondered. Or was this simply fucking?

He did not know but he knew one thing—he did not want this to be over. Not yet. And his body agreed with him, because he summoned the last of his energy and sat up, taking the thief with him and looked deep into those dark, dusky eyes, and hoped his desire was conveyed there.

Bakura smirked, chuckled and Atem shivered feeling the other harden once again inside of him.

"Finished?" the thief teased, licking his lips, lust shadowing those dusky eyes to the deepest violet of the night sky.

Atem shook his head.

"Good." With a swift motion, Bakura pulled out and flipped the surprised prince over onto his stomach. Atem turned to protest but the words died in his throat, when the Thief came up behind him, an arm snaking around his waist, the warm bronze skin blanketing the channel of his back, and those firm hips spreading this thighs. Hard, hot hands, suddenly ceased his hips with bruising strength and Atem was given no warning when Bakura pulled him back and impaled him on the other's already thick cock.

Atem's moan could've woken the dead—his back arched in absolute pleasure before, he dropped forward and buried his face in the pillows. Hands and arms flailed wilding for purchase as Bakura once again set a fast, furious pace, pouring all his desire and passion into the boy beneath him. All shaking hips and quivering thighs, only Bakura's fierce grip kept him from falling. Crying out, Atem supported himself weakly on his forearms as Bakura slammed into his already wet passage. Still sensitive from his previous orgasm, he _felt_ his own tightness around the throbbing cock inside him desperate to keep it there. And with each embrace, Bakura quickened their pace, pulling his hips backwards and allowing him to thrust even deeper.

Bakura lost himself in his desire, pounding into that rapturous body with all he had to offer and determined to fill it once again with the offering of his desire. Those beautiful hips where like water in his hands: languid and easy to maneuver, even as Atem rose himself on his arms and rotated his hips. The display of control, the determination to push back even when irrevocably vanquished, by all the Gods this creature truly was untamable.

And yet…

"Who would've thought," he whispered and the words where a carnal hiss in Atem's ear, paralyzing him even as Bakura hammered away inside of him. "That the magnificent crown prince who all the world bows to…would be on this knees for a common _thief._" He punctured that last word with an upward jerk of his hips, pounding that once spot that sent starbursts and liquid fire behind the prince's eyes.

His reward was a rebellious chuckle and when Atem met his gaze over his shoulders, though his eyes were glazed over with pleasure and his mouth was parted in having pants, fucking _hell_ he _still_ wore that frustratingly alluring smirk and killer eyes

"Not a _common_ thief," he rasped throwing Bakura's own words back at him. "The _King_."

It was the first time Atem has acknowledged him by that title.

Pushing himself up, Atem turned just slightly, impressive given the thief had not stopped his ruthless actions, his release so close he could _feel _it, and yet Atem audaciously met his eyes.

"For only a King is worthy of courting the child of _Gods_."

Bakura lost himself then. With a roaring growl that was half furious and half elation, he grabbed Atem's arms and kissed him so hard they both collapsed and he once more climaxed inside that warm, silken channel, coating every inch of it with his essence like a brand. The evidence of Atem's own pleasure flooding his hand.

They lay there for a few moments, dazed and delighted.

Feeling audacious, Bakura's cocky grin fixated on the prince, who met his grin. Atem's blazing eyes were Bakura's only warning before a sharp, sudden sting struck him across the cheek.

"Fuck!" Bakura cursed, unsure if he should be pleased or offended, but had no time to recover before he found himself forced onto his back. Atem rolled over him with a loud hiss, but it did not stop him from straddling the thief's waist. His fingernails raked down Bakura's chest leaving marks in a way that stung like serpent's venom and set his blood on fire.

"Fuck," Bakura cursed again. Anger in his eyes and voice as he found himself pinned down by those fierce hands and fiercer gaze—and that Ra be-damned shit eating smirk that set his cock stirring. Only then did he realize Atem was still engulfing him. Those soft, silky thighs cushioning his arousal. Chuckling through that fucking Ra damned smirk.

It was a dark velvety sound of wicked delight and carnal pleasures, and when he spoke his words were like a warm caress. "Did you think we were finished?"

Then slowly, steadily, Atem rose to his knees leaving just the tip of hardness then slowly, surely, sank back down. He moaned, feeling Bakura harden inside of him. His movements were jerky and inexperienced at first but he learned quickly, and learned spectacularly and before long he build up a slow, steady rhythm that drove Bakura wild.

With a growl of impatience, he moved to grab those hips but Atem was quicker and caught his wrists quick as a cobra, and poured all his weight into holding them down. Bakura jerked wildly protesting the pinioned wrists and the torturously slow pace. He managed to rise up on his elbows, his sculpted chest puffed out proudly and met those fiery eyes with an expression of absolute defiance but the position was difficult and he could not hold it long.

Atem only smirked and arched his body forward forcing Bakura back down and angling his hips in such a way that they both shrieked. Releasing his hands, Atem grabbed his shoulders steading himself and started rocking in his lap. His hips rolled, engulfing Bakura in a way that was both fervently familiar and excitingly new, and dear god, if that silken cavernous heat wouldn't be the death of him. Already he felt his heartbeat accelerating. The slow, sensual pace drove him wild, arousing him a way that did not make sense, and Bakura loved it all the more because of it, and from the deep heaving moans of the man above him—so did Atem.

Atem rode him as fiercely and confidently as one did a wild stallion—not trying to control or tame that spirited wildness, but accepting it, embracing it, and Ra and all his followers, if Atem rolled his hips as he rose one more time! Bakura surrendered, immediately, growling and groaning like a desperate hound clawing at the furs. And when he reached the moment of his pleasure it was with Atem's name on his lips—gruff and wild.

Atem liquefied in his lap undone but the liquid, molten heat spilling inside him and that thick, pulsating flesh curling against his own pleasure. Stars bursts behind his eyes as he too became undone. The evidence of his pleasure spilling between them. He collapsed and was readily caught by the Thief's King's arms: ruby and amethyst eyes glazed over with mirth and rapture. Steadily Atem pushed himself up on his arms, looked down at the thief's satisfied face, and shuddered when he felt the other pulse inside him once again. With a momentous effort, Atem lifted his hips allowing the other to slip out of him. His breathing still rapid and harsh. Bakura looked up into his own dazed expression: pride and triumph evident in those radiating eyes, but something else burned there as well. The Thief rose to level their gazes, and in that moment Atem thought Bakura might kiss him.

He would never know, for in that moment, delirious from pleasure, exhaustion took hold and he collapsed in the Thief King's waiting arms.

Grabbing a damp cloth from a nearby bucket, Bakura cleaned away the evidence of their love making, and gently set the slumbering prince on his side. He stumbled briefly as he did so, still dazed himself, from the explosion that had erupted between them.

He stayed a few moments, watching the prince sleep: the rapid rise and fall of his chest and sides as he look long, deep, exhausted breathes, the way the sharpness of his face smoothed and relaxed in peacefulness and the sweet way he seemed to shiver and curl into himself like a cat in the cold.

Summoning his last of his strength and with gargantuan effort, the thief rose, fished his father's oversized burgundy robe off the floor and draped it over the slumbering prince, before collapsing himself on the bed of pillows and furs behind him.

* * *

Perdo: and apparently the Queen of Plot Twists is incapable of writing a shot lemon  
Strawberry: or a single lemon  
Snowy: Nonetheless, she hopes you all enjoyed this chapter.  
Kuri: The Queen of Plot Twists will also like to announce that this will be the last updated regarding her fanficitons (with the exception of Timaeus) for a while. No she is not abandoning any og her work and in fact has multiple ideas for oneshots and short stories: both Dark and libra, but as she IS working from home due to the virus, she still must…well…work.  
Lavender: Therefore she will be focusing her attention on original work and actual work but she also hopes to updated these shorts hopefully once a week…attention permitting.  
Strawberry: ALSO there was a HUGE cannon secret revealed this chapter ;) well cannon in this universe. some of you already know but for those who don't anyone wanna guess what it is ;)  
Kuribohs: STAY SAFE


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